


The 74th Hunger Games through Rue's perspective

by thirteenbutterflies



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 74th Hunger Games, Alternative Perspective, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenbutterflies/pseuds/thirteenbutterflies
Summary: This is the entire road to the 74th Hunger Games through Rue's perspective. How she feels, how she sees the Games and how she did all she could in order to survive and go back to District 11 with the victory.





	The 74th Hunger Games through Rue's perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, this is my first fanfic ever and I always wondered what Rue would have thought through her experience in the Hunger Games. I really hope I'm not too far from what she is in the series, and I also hope you enjoy it as much I'm enjoying writing the chapters.  
> Please, if you have any feedback, drop me a comment or a message! My tumblr is thirteenbutterflies as well ^_^

After my name was called on the Reaping, I could not hear a sound. And my ears have always been so good.

It must be because the place felt in an unbearable silence.

Everybody was holding their breaths as I walked, head up, to the stage where the colourful, yet bizarre, Capitol woman read my name. I searched for the sight of my mother and brothers, but I couldn’t find them anyhere. Perhaps it was better this way.

The audience was still in silence when I positioned myself on my given place. Our escort was trying to cheer me, as it was an enormous honor to represent my District in the Hunger Games. But I’ve never felt so vulnerable. I had never felt so small, and I was used to remain on high places, getting the fruits from the highest branches of the trees from the orchard. Everywhere I looked I could see the gazes of pity and pain, mixed with an enormous relief. It’s never easy to see a 12-year-old being reaped, but of course parents and children couldn’t hide a sigh of happiness when they didn’t hear their own names or the names of their children. When I was looking all around the crowd, I thought about the numerous tesserae I’ve subscribed for to feed my brothers, and I also thought about my friends at work. And how would they know now when the shift was over? Who would warn them?

I had to come back. For them. For my brothers. For my District. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I couldn’t remain without hope. Mom says hope is the only thing that can overcome fear, and I think she’s right.

My mind came back to the Reaping at the moment I heard the woman call for Thresh’s name. He walked fast up to the stage, head down, but not because of fright. Because of despise and also resolution. He knew he had a chance. Eighteen years old, almost free from the Reaping but, for a lack of luck, reaped, he was basically a Career from the wrong District. But not because he was trained to fight other children to death in the Hunger Games; he simply was like that. Working all day bringing and taking enormous sacks of grains and fruits, he got as strong as he could be. He seemed well-fed as well, but he is a big exception. Most of our children need tesserae in order to not starve to death.

As he walked to the stage, I was able to hear a faint sound. The oldest woman I’ve ever seen was crying helplessly, hugging tightly a younger woman. Both were so alike to Thresh that it was impossible to say otherwise; they were probably the mother and grandmother of him. And that’s the moment my heart sinks. That’s the moment I realize that only one, if not none of us, is coming home. And that was also the moment I felt relief in finding my family nowhere. I knew I would fall inconsolable if I saw then while I was on the stage, trying my hard to seem calm and to keep my dirty white dress in place. I was fighting the tears that were insisting in falling from my eyes. I almost let them flow. Almost.

A Peacekeeper, under the protests of the young woman, rudely escorts the old woman to somewhere I couldn’t see. The crowd’s silence was broken by the old lady’s weeping, and everybody is talking and screaming at once. It seems like the entire situation became unbearable to the safe people as well; our Peacekeepers were never easy to deal with, being too harsh unnecessarily to innocent people. Our escort tries to calm the masses, but her efforts are all in vain; the crowded place is full of noise, with people trying to see where they took Thresh’s grandmother and what will be of her. They decide to take us quickly inside the Justice Building.

When we were just after the huge tin doors, I feel Thresh’s hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t even need to raise his arm to touch me; he is so tall and I’m so small that this position fits perfectly for the touch. And I know that this is all the care I can get from him, and I also know this is not pity; this is a true manifestation of compassion.  
And then the doors close behind us, and all is silence.


End file.
